Day 8

The funny thing about Day 8 was that we all seemed to be of the opinion that once the cycling was over, we had pretty much finished the challenge. How wrong we were. It was almost like Ben Nevis knew we were relaxing and decided to make us work extra hard to finish…

We got up about 7.30, determined to get on the mountain early. We found out on Friday that Saturday was the day of the Ben Nevis race and therefore from 2pm it would be really busy. Working backwards from this, we thought that starting by 9am would give us enough time to get down. Therefore we skipped breakfast, packed the van and headed straight to the car park where many a 3-Peaker has headed off to start the highest mountain in the UK.

True enough, by just after 9am we were shambling off from the van, chock full of mars bar and ibuprofen and ready to tick off the last of the three climbs.

We should have known better. The weather was already pretty dismal and within half an hour the air was moist enough with a light drizzle to make waterproof jackets a necessity. We kept on a pretty good pace but the higher we climbed, the worse the weather got. It was clear after an hour that it was going to be wet but we trudged on without waterproofs, trying to keep up a good pace. However, by halfway we had to abandon any manly plans to push on through and we stopped to fully tog up. By now the wind was picking up too and it was getting colder, darker and murkier.

We pushed on but by now any trace of fun and levity had gone. We all were realising that not only were we really tired, but we still had a good two hours worth of climbing to go in increasingly unpleasant conditions. Everyone of us had something to whinge about: Matt was soaked through having had a mare with his waterproofs (Fraser had his trousers, the jacket stayed in his bag - was that really the best place for it?!); Jonny’s legs were causing him problems, John’s boots were leaking giving him sodden feet, and Fraser’s knees were playing up big time. In short, we were pretty miserable and focussing more and more on the heels of the person in front and nothing more than putting one leg in front of the other.

Those who have climbed Ben Nevis know that the second half of the climb is a long series of zig-zags over increasingly rocky ground until the summit plateau opens up with its breath-taking views and precipitous drops. As we trudged on, these zig-zags seemed to continue forever. I lost count of how many times I thought “this is the last one” only to look up and see another one through the mist. The rain carried on falling, the wind got stronger, we got colder, and kept on climbing.

After nearly three and a half hours it finally started to level off. By now the mist was so thick that we could only follow the path by walking from tor to tor. For the first time since we got on the mountain though, we were starting to perk up. We must be getting near the summit, and that kept us moving. The views were totally non-existent because of the mist and rain but luckily there were guides for the Ben Nevis race warning people away from the drops and they kept us on target for the summit.

Reaching the top was wonderful. We had gone into Day 8 thinking the hard work was done but Ben Nevis made us think again. But arriving at the ruined observatory truly was the end of the challenge and we all felt fantastic despite the horrible weather and the truly unpleasant sight of Matt taking off his top. He claims this was to add extra layers, but we are more convinced that he wanted to look tough for the summit video.

After about two minutes at the top, we beat a hasty retreat and headed for the warmth of the van. The descent was a joyous affair: not only had we completed our challenge, but there is little sweeter than walking downwards when you are passing lots of miserable looking people walking upwards.

Not long before we reached the bottom we saw a truly amazing site. We like to think we are reasonably fit boys in our 30s and we had had a good week of practice to attempt Ben Nevis, not to mention all the right kit. Twenty minutes from the bottom, however, we had to step off the path to let the 500 runners of the Ben Nevis race go by. What possesses these people is a mystery. We had got wet and cold in hiking boots and full waterproofs: these lunatics were running passed in shorts and vests. But the most arresting sight of all was their age: these weren’t just 20 year olds trying to prove their manliness, many of them looked to be in their 60s or even 70s. Truth be told, a few of them looked like they were about to expire altogether. It really was a humbling sight, but also one that makes you wonder what the hell these freaks were getting out of it. I don’t think there is enough money in the world to make me do that.

Once we had reached the sweet sanctuary of the van, we wasted no time in heading to the nearest boozer to get them to empty the contents of their kitchen onto our table via the deep fat fryer. We celebrated with whiskey, Guiness and mountains of carbs before getting in the van for the 10 hour drive back to London.