I've heard people talking a lot about a 'return to normality' and I have been wondering what was so exciting about normality for them. Normal for me is getting up, driving to work, working 9 hours, driving home, having dinner, then watching TV until it's time to go to bed. Then doing it all over again. The only difference recently is that I haven't had to go into the office. Normal is repetitive boringness. I guess as a bit of an introvert that lives in a very rural area where you can go on nice walks, the impact on me would be far different to someone that gets a proper buzz from social interaction and is stuck in a flat. I personally think most people are pricks and having to stay away from them all is absolutely wonderful. I do like spending time with family and friends and I missed that, but Zoom calls made it feel like I'd seen some of them more than I did when we could actually meet.
All that said, I think being trapped by rules and regulations probably makes you want to do things you wouldn't normally have done. It maybe also puts some perspective on what you've achieved in your life so far. If you didn't think that you'd ticked enough off your bucket list, then being effectively banned from fulfilling that bucket list is likely to make you want to do more cool things when you get your freedoms back.
I'm not the sort of bloke that has any ambition to swim with sharks, go bungee jumping over a crocodile infested river or even to run a half marathon. I'm happy enough with the travelling I've done, I don't like being in the sea much, I don't like heights much and I haven't gone for a run in about 10 years. My existence has become fairly pointless recently though, so lockdown has definitely made me consider making a bit more of life rather than just returning to that repetitive boringness.
We had Ben Nevis on our list of things to do ever since we'd had a wonderful time going up Snowdon in 2017. We planned to go up the Ben in 2018 but the weather wasn't on our side the weekend we were there and we sensibly didn't go all the way up. Then some years fly by and then you get a global pandemic. When rules started to relax a bit, Scotland seemed like a decent place to go. England is more densely populated and I think there's a much higher ratio of disrespectful divs in England that would be infesting every nice place and dropping thier shit on the floor. I want to be happy when I go somewhere else. Not wishing I was back home.
We planned a trip to Nairn (near Inverness), which is probably our favourite place in the UK because the beaches are amazing and it's a nice town with some good pubs. We booked a couple of nights in a camping pod at the Glen Nevis Holiday Park on the way up so we could finally get the job done. I'd found Snowdon relatively easy going and whilst I was expecting Ben Nevis to be another difficulty level up, I didn't really prepare than much apart from a few long walks on the Malvern Hills. That would turn out to be a bit of an error.
The drive up to the Highlands is always a joy. I think I live in a nice part of the country, but when I go to rural Scotland it makes me feel like I live in a shithole. You'll find incredible beauty around every bend in the road and the long journey takes even longer because you just want to stop all the time to take in the scenery and breathe in the clean, cool air. It's wonderful.
We arrived at our camping pod and it was an absolutely stunning place to be. This was starting to feel like a proper adventure and I was starting to feel very unprepared for it. Back in 2017 I'd seen people going up Snowdon dressed like they were off down the beach, carrying nothing more than a hoodie and a bottle of water. They were idiots, but there were a lot of them. The folk around this campsite looked expedition ready, because I guess they probably felt they absolutely had to be. We had all the things we'd need to be OK. Good broken in walking shoes, warm clothes, hats/gloves, waterproofs, spare dry socks, food, plenty of water etc etc, but I'm always overly cautious. Here I felt like I'd got the bare minimum on the cheap from Amazon. What should have been a relaxing evening in the mountains became one that was partly filled with dread.
We were up at 6am ish and I hadn't had an awful lot of sleep. If I have something on my mind I just can't switch off. We checked and double checked that we had everything we'd possibly need in our backpacks and we made our way to the foot of the highest mountain in the British Isles. Ah bollocks. Here we go then.
The main path up isn't particularly steep, but it isn't as friendly underfoot as the "tourist path" up Snowdon. It starts off quite rocky and later becomes just rocks. I hadn't trained enough for this relentless uphill walking though. The time we'd spent on the Malverns had lots of ascents and descents in relatively short timeframes. This walk slowly eats your energy and hurts your bones.
It was OK though. We were both happy enough and our dog Dottie was typically just plodding along enjoying walking wherever we were going. Stace was finding it a lot easier than me because she'd recently been a lot more active than I had. I think the walk up and down is about 8 miles or so and the first few miles going up weren't too bad, even if I was starting to feel more and more tired.
The last mile ish up becomes more difficult walking. There were a lot of people on the mountain, but up to that point you could easily pass by or let others pass you. You can find plenty of space. It's more difficult towards the top with less room to manoeuvre. You get a sort of bottleneck that creates a backlog and a slow queue. Being relatively close to the top, but having to slowly take every painful step turned it into a battle and I started to feel like I didn't have enough in the tank to win it. If it had been quiet, I would have been able to zone out and plow on, but I couldn't go at my own pace and I could only think about how knackered I was. We did have the occasional break so Stace could do some litter picking and have some photos to send back to the office (where they sell litter pickers).
Eventually and thankfully the route started to level off and there was more open space to pass people. It was really misty but the cairns guided us towards the summit. When we reached it I felt a sense of relief and achievement that I wasn't expecting to feel that day. It caught me off guard and made me a bit emotional. I'd always thought it would be challenging, but I hadn't expected at any point to feel like I might need to sack it off. I always expected I'd get to the top, but there definitely turned out to be moments where I just wanted to turn around. We sat down and opened up a couple of cans of cider to celebrate. It felt amazing. Then it started to feel really cold up there so we enjoyed the moment and then headed back down.
That relief was felt more by me, partly because Stace had prepared better than I had and partly because she found going down hills more difficult than going up. For me, the job was done, but for her it was barely half done. She badly twisted her ankle before a mud running event a while back and it was painful enough to make her faint and have to drop out. The fear of that happening again on the rocky descent was enough to make the walk down quite a tentative and slow one.
We got there in the end, ankles unscathed and entered the warmth of the camping pod. Taking my socks off has never felt so good. The combination of a lack of sleep and a lot of walking had made me completely drained and after a shower and some grub cooked on the firepit, I was out like a light when my head touched the pillow.
It had been an epic day and one that I will never forget for both how difficult it was but also how great it felt to reach the top. It had made me realise that you can read as much about the journey as you like and take all the right things with you, but if you don't make the effort to get in the right shape you risk failure. I wasn't as fit as I thought I was which was an eye opener and I should perhaps work on that a bit more.
So that was Snowdon and Ben Nevis done for us and our dog Dottie. We'd have to do Scafell Pike next. We go again. We'd thoroughly enjoy the rest of our time in beautiful Scotland though.
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