The Ben Blog

Ben Nevis is the highest mountain in the UK at over 4,400 foot. OK not Alps or Andes scale, but big enough. It is a granite massif, surrounded by spectacular glacial valleys and the ascent is made almost from sea level, starting from the very beautiful Water of Nevis, close to where it meets the sea loch. The top is typically 12 degrees centigrade colder than the start. An average of 8 people die on it each year. The weather can change horrendously fast, and there is snow on top for nine months of the year.

It is also the site of my most spectacular failure in my forty-odd years. Apologies now that this is a very egocentric blog, but then no-one else has got in to write one before me!

Last Spring, I trained for the Three Peaks Challenge: to climb the three highest peaks in England, Scotland and Wales within 24 hours – including the travel between them. For charity, not just the challenge. OK, I hadn’t trained hard enough, but I felt ready. We travelled ten hours from Llandovery to Fort William in a cramped minibus, had a great if somewhat late and riotous night as a team and then started the challenge around 4pm. By 4.15pm, my active part in the challenge was over. As I climbed the ridiculously steep path up from the Youth Hostel to join the main, more leisurely path, something twanged in my right calf. Nothing major, no going over on my ankle or anything else that would explain or excuse it … I pressed on for about 10 strides but something was badly wrong. I had to pull myself out of the climb and head, embarrassed, humiliated and in tears, back down. Finished before I’d barely begun. This was bad enough, but with each step I was in more and more pain. 15 minutes up, and 45 minutes to get down. Only when – crying and very apologetic – I was sitting in the minibus once more did we roll up my trouser leg. A massive black bruise had appeared from nowhere extending from the inside of my knee to just above my ankle. All was puffy, livid and grim. It was the first time anyone had called my legs ugly, but I had to agree. Opinion remains divided on what had happened, but one theory that makes sense to me was a DVT – probably brought on by the cramped coach journey – and the clot had (luckily for me) blown. It could have been a whole lot worse if it hadn’t. I became a member of the support team and had an amazing 24 hours in that role, but that is another story.

So Ben Nevis was my nemesis. The whole sorry episode was brought back to me in vivid detail as we camped directly below the Ben, almost opposite the infamous steep path up. I was determined this time that nothing was going to stop me climbing it.